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Dr. Love, Part One

Reply to Shelly and Sherri

Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list March 4, 2001

Title: Dr. Love
Author: Shelly and Sherri
Fandom: Roswell
Rating: just consider NC17 for all parts
Archive: please email to inform of desire to archive, thanks! :)
Feedback: qemeraldus@aol.com
Disclaimer: The characters of these shows don't belong to us. We just like to do fun things to them...<EG>
Author's Notes: This is an alternate version of Viva Las Vegas and carries mild spoilers for that episode. Our version of what would have happened if Max and Michael had gone off to Las Vegas by themselves <EG>



Viva Las Vegas, thought Michael as he sat slumped in the armchair, glowering across the hotel room at Max seated on the black leather couch of their ritzy hotel room. They'd come here for a few days of fun, so that Michael could forget the trauma of his shooting and leave behind the nightmares that had been plaguing him over the last two weeks, but of course it couldn't be that simple. Not when he had Max the Saint in tow, the eternal thundercloud looming darkly on his horizon...

At least *he* had been having fun, till they'd gotten thrown out of the casino for cheating. If it hadn't been for Max preventing him from decking the pit boss, their asses would be in jail now, but instead they were back here at the swank hotel, as distant as two people could be from each other and still be in the same room.

"What's up with you?" he demanded of Max as he pushed up out of his chair to stalk over to Max, standing over him with arms folded belligerently over his chest as he glared down at Max.

"What's up with *me*?" echoed Max, placing a hand over his chest as he stared up at Michael in disbelief. "You're the one that got us tossed out of the casino for cheating...and you're asking me what's wrong with me?"

"Why you always got to be such a straight arrow? Why can't you just have let go and have *fun* for once?" Michael spun away from Max, throwing his hands up in disgust as he paced. "Just for once...why can't you support me instead of tearing me down? 'It's *cheating*, Michael, it's *wrong*, Michael.'" He mimicked Max's voice in a savage falsetto, whirling to face him.

Max surged to his feet, crossing the distance separating them in three long strides, and stabbed a finger at Michael's chest. "You're irresponsible and a selfish little..." He bit off the rest of what he was going to say, jaw working, and waved a hand dismissively as he spun to go for the door. "Forget it. I'm out of here."

"And there you go, just *walking* away again, instead of dealing with it!" Michael caught him by the shoulder to pull him around. "God, you make me so crazy!" He lifted his hands, not knowing what he was intending to do with them, maybe hit Max or even grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Max glared back at him, so full of righteous anger, amber eyes blazing, showing some *life*, some passion.

And Michael laid his hands on either side of Max's head, pulling him closer as he took his mouth in a demanding, bruising kiss.

Max stood frozen under the pressure of his mouth, till tongue prodded at lips, and stepped back, away from Michael and the unexpected kiss. He stared at Michael, shocked at his action, and Michael returned his stare with that smug look of his, that *dared* Max to say anything about it, do anything about it. Michael who did whatever he wanted, when he wanted, without thought for the consequences, and who condemned him for thinking too much, for being too cautious. Always taunting him for his shortcomings...

He stepped forward and caught at the front of Michael's shirt, Michael frowning now and body tensing, as if he expected Max to hit him for having the nerve to kiss him. Fingers curled in the material, he pulled Michael closer and laid on him a kiss, as passionate as his own had been. Felt giddy laughter bubbling up in him as it was Michael's turn to freeze, as shocked as Max had been, and then Michael's hands were on him as mouth slanted to drink of his.

Step by stumbling step they went back, till they were at the couch, Michael's hands tugging impatiently at the tails of Max's shirt to bring it up out of jeans. So warm and hard against his skin, palms sliding up shirt as mouth broke away from his, so that they could both gasp in air. Pushing Max down onto the couch, Michael was over him in a moment, rending shirt with a single vicious jerk of his hands and exposing smooth lean chest to the eager stroke of his hands.

Max moaned as Michael caressed him, soft lips following the path of fingers over his chest and abdomen. "Michael..." Max hissed, when tongue tickled his navel. "What...what are we doing?" Crazy enough that he and Michael had kissed, but now it was going further. Crazy.

Michael lifted his head to lock eyes with Max. "We're doing what feels good," he stated. "Go with the flow for once, Maxwell. Let yourself feel good." Michael's hands moved over Max's perfect torso and he whispered, "And, damn, you sure do feel good."

"This is crazy!" Max hissed, trying to push Michael off him. But then he found Michael's weight bearing down on him, pinning Max to the couch. Was about to snap at Michael when strong fingers laced in his hair and hot lips crushed his. Max fought the kiss but Michael would not be denied.

"You taste good," Michael whispered against Max's sweet lips when he finally let his friend up for air.

Max was furious, hating the smirk that curled Michael's lips. Hating that he had responded. "Let me up!" Max snarled, pushing at Michael's chest.

Michael shook his head. "You're a wuss, Maxwell," he purred. "You can't see anything through. You have to question it. Figure it out. You're a fucking machine." Made to get up and found fingers curled in his shirt as he was yanked down so he and Max were face to face.

"Quit calling me a machine!" Max hissed. "I'm human, Michael. All too human. I feel pain and loneliness and fear just like you. I have wants and needs...I..."

"Actions speak louder than words, Maxwell," Michael drawled, knowing just which buttons to push. And he was pleased to see Max's amber eyes spark with anger. Anger that Michael had every intention of turning into passion. He'd had dreams about fucking Max in the past, but had never imagined it would really happen. But it would. Michael knew that they both needed this. Needed each other. And his cock was aching hard in his jeans.

Max knew that Michael was challenging him and he couldn't back down. So he took Michael's face in both hands and kissed him for all he was worth. As passionately as he had kissed Liz in the past, but with anger behind it and a ferocious hunger. He didn't have to be gentle with Michael.

Michael tasted Max's tongue in his mouth and was thrilled. Wanted to be burned by Max's fire. And to that end he took control. It was time Max let someone else be the boss.

Michael's hands grasped Max's shoulders to force Max back from him and Max blinked at him in surprise, cheeks coloring as it occurred to him that maybe Michael was teasing him, leading him on only to pull back at the last minute so he could mock Max for how easily he'd tumbled to him. Anger flared in amber eyes to be quickly replaced by shame and Michael leaned forward to give him a hard kiss, wanting to banish that look of disappointment.

"You're not getting off that easy..." he said, voice harsh from the need and hunger that suffused him. He pushed Max back onto the couch and pressed himself over Max, taking sweet mouth in another kiss as hands worked to unfasten Max's jeans. Once he had them open he slipped a hand inside, questing fingers closing eagerly around the thick warmth of stirring cock, and broke off the kiss, sliding down so that he could take cock into his mouth.

"Michael..." gasped Max, clawing at the couch under him as hips jutted up, pressing cock into the warm receptacle of Michael's mouth. Jeans were suddenly gone, flowing away from his skin to leave him exposed to Michael, but the only thing that existed was the wet slide of tongue and the insistent pull of mouth as Michael worked him to a shattering release.

Grasping the backs of Max's knees, Michael eased them back to expose the underside of taut buttocks to him and used Max's own cum to lubricate the deliciously tight opening. He used his fingers to work it into Max, too eager to fuck him to be gentle, but Max didn't want gentle, from the way he wriggled under Michael and pressed up into the plunge of fingers. Max wanted it as hard and fast as he did and Michael was all too happy to oblige him.

He undid his own jeans, freeing cock from boxers, and moved between long legs to slide into Max. Tough going at first, Max recovering some sense and resisting his entry, but once he'd gotten this far, Michael was prepared to be just a little patient. Short, hard little jabs into Max, his hands sliding up and down strong thighs as tongue plundered Max's mouth, and bit by bit Max opened to him, allowing him in. He surged triumphantly forward to sheathe himself in Max, balls slapping up against the underside of taut buttocks, and held himself there, loving the feel of Max so hot and tight around him, the press of firm ass against his groin.

Max tore his mouth away from Michael's, gasping for air, and squirmed helplessly under him. Too big, too hard, and he needed Michael to do...something! "Michael...Michael..."

Michael nipped at Max's lower lip, letting his mouth slide across cheek and to ear so that he could lave it with his tongue. "Stop trying to be the boss, Maxwell." he chided. "I'm in charge here..."

End of Part 1

Continue to Part Two

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